I’m not quite right.

I’m better than what I was. There’s not so much crying and the sense of panic I felt most days has eased. That’s got to be a good thing, right?

Some of my natural optimism has returned and overall I feel better than I did a few weeks ago. Which is definitely a step forward.

But I’m still not quite right.


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I still wake in the middle of the night with my mind awash with worries and fears.

Each morning I rise, exhausted, and robotically follow our morning routine, moving from task to task without even thinking too much about what I’m doing. There’s no enjoyment, no sense of living in the moment.

Most days there is still a ball of anxiety sitting in my stomach. A feeling of being weighed down. Of teetering on the precipice.

I feel okay but not happy. Better but not well.

It is still early days and there is a long way to go. I know anxiety and depression do not just disappear overnight.

But I can’t wait to feel more myself. To be content and happy again. To enjoy life rather than just moving through it.
I console myself with this knowledge. At least I know where I want to go. What I want to be.

I just need to find a way to get there.